


Watch out the world's behind you.

by gross_batpanda



Series: Chicagoland [9]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Anal Sex, Choking, Coming In Pants, Dirty Talk, Double the Washington Double the Fun, Grooming, Gross, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 19:42:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7727386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gross_batpanda/pseuds/gross_batpanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Punk au. Ben gets rekt in his Sunday best, plus special guest Cjack Washington playing one of Chicago's finest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watch out the world's behind you.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Sunday Morning" by the Velvet Underground.

The relative freedom of the summer gives way to a more strict regimen in the fall. Ben has college essays to write, SATS to study for, debate team, homework, church. His encounters with George are less frequent, but they leave him bitten, bruised, and sore. Ben will call him when his parents are at church meetings and George will growl into the phone and tell him how to touch himself.

He loves all of it, and hates how much he loves it, but at least it means George is still interested in him and hasn't found someone else.

It doesn't happen frequently enough, so Ben settles for a few awkward, pathetic, unsatisfying fumbles with one of the boys in the church choir, and his own thoughts in his bedroom late at night.

October rolls around, and his college applications are mailed out, debate team regionals are over, and he thinks he didn't do so badly on the SATs. He's got more free time, and his parents don't even blink when he mentions wanting to go into the city after church. Sure thing, be back before dinner, do you need money for the train.

Sunday mornings are all the same. Ben beats off in the shower, three fingers buried in his ass, brushes his teeth, puts on the outfit his mother lays out the night before, eats hot breakfast, and makes it to church early to greet parishioners.

He pays rapt attention, because if his mind wanders to drooling all over George’s cock, or his fingers curling inside him, he's gonna have an embarrassing problem in front of the whole congregation. When it’s over he makes his usual round of handshakes and goodbyes, and then sprints to the station. There's no time to change, so he's stuck with showing up at George’s club in his Sunday best: wingtips, dress pants, button-down shirt, sweater vest, necktie.

Billy lets him in and Ben wraps his coat tightly around him, hoping none of the day drinkers at the bar notice how stupid he looks.

George is making notes in a yellow legal pad, and doesn't even look up until Ben knocks against the doorframe of his basement office. He looks up, His eyes are dark, as he slowly gives Ben the once-over. He licks his lips, and Ben feels dizzy with shame. He was expecting George to bitch him out for his outfit, like he did whenever Ben wore band shirts to shows or stared too long at him in public. He wasn't expecting _this_.

George growls and Ben’s cock stiffens in his dress pants.

“Come here, Benjamin. Take off your coat.”

He let's his jacket fall to the ground and his legs somehow manage to move forward until Ben is standing in front of the desk. George pulls his chair back, his legs splayed wide apart. “Closer.”

He scrambles into George’s lap. His rough hands roam around Ben; stroking his cheek, running them through his hair, sliding under his shirt and roaming down his stomach. One hand palms his crotch, and Ben can't help but grind into it.

“How was church?”

“Fine, I guess.” George pulls away his hand. “Tell me about it, baby.”

_Oh._

George replaced his hand and kept stroking Ben through his pants as he rambled about the hymns, the prayers, the sermon.

“Th-the sermon was based off Hosea 1:2. Hosea marrying the prostitute Gomer as the Lord commanded.” Ben gasped. The pressure was too much, too soon. George snarled in his ear and Ben shuddered.

“C’mon, tell me more”

“Josea’s love for the unfaithful woman pales _shit do that again_ in comparison to God’s love for Israel and Christ’s love for His Church.” George sucked Ben’s ear and he let out a wail. He was close, much too close., and Ben couldn't stop rutting against George’s hand, even if he wanted to. “If-if Josea can love and forgive his unfaithful wife _oh fuck im gonna_ w-what makes us think God won't forgive us of our sins after he sent His son to make the ultimate sacrifice on our behalf? _shitshitshitJESUSohhhfuck_ ” Ben comes in hot pulses as he buries his head into George’s neck, inhaling sweat and cigarette smoke. His pants and underwear are all sticky. He feels--

“So fucking dirty, aren't you, sweetheart?” George’s grin makes Ben’s stomach flip, he can feel his stiffness through his jeans, his hands are loosening his tie and pulling at his sweater vest--

“Up on the desk, I'm not done with you yet.”

 

###

  


So this is what being a god must feel like. Total control over someone you can do whatever you want with, while they babble your praises. Ben’s on his back, knees almost at his ears, as George plows into him. He hadn't bothered with pulling off his tighty whities and had simply ripped a hole in them.

Ben was rattling off bible verses and prayers. He gasped when George rested his hand around his throat--no pressure, but Ben groaned at the hint of touch. Maybe next time. He liked having his nipples played with, too. Might be worth getting some clamps or clothespins.

Ben had stiffened up again, and he had stopped babbling after a particularly hard thrust, and George stopped. “If you stop, I stop, whore.” George gives Ben a slap, and he moans and starts reciting the Lord’s Prayer. George plows into him, and strokes him through his ruined underwear. He's so far gone--they both are, so George keeps driving home.

“And lead us not into temptation- _fuck_ -but deliver us from evil, for th-thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever and ever- _ohgodohgodohmygodohmygodFUCK_ ”

There's no way George can hold back after seeing the look on Ben’s face after he nuts himself-again-all over his church clothes. He comes after a few more thrusts, thoroughly spent, and carefully pulls out and knots the condom and throws it in the trash. He yanks off Ben’s shredded underwear and tries to wipe off the mess before tossing that in the wastebasket, too. It's a pity he keeps the camera at home,  he'd love nothing more than to document Ben in this state, sweaty, flushed, totally corrupted. Oh well. There's always next time.

  


###

  


Ben’s hands are shaking too much to handle the buttons on his shirt, so George helps him. He straightens his tie, too, and tucks in his shirt, and retrieves the vest and shoes from where they were hastily thrown aside. George leans in for a kiss, more soft than the bruising ones earlier.

“Can you come around on Friday?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Don't touch yourself until then.”

Ben makes his way upstairs, Fortunately, his coat is long enough to cover the unfortunate stain on his pants, and hopefully Ben can throw them in the wash as soon as he gets home without his mother giving him too much trouble. It'll be easy, _some kid spilled his soda on my pants on the train home, they're already in the wash_. Ben’s too wrapped up in writing the script in his head, the one where he's a responsible, virginal son, that he doesn't see the man in the doorway of the club, and runs right into him.

 _Shit_.

He's tall, muscular, heavy-browed, and wearing the uniform of the Chicago Police Department. Ben freezes. He's been caught, they've been caught, it's all over. He manages,to stammer “S-sorry, officer”, but the man only chuckles.

“You ought to watch where you're going, son.” The man--”G. Custis” on his badge-- steps aside to let Ben exit.

It's a trap. It must be a trap. Ben waits around the corner, expecting to see George hauled away in handcuffs, only to see the cop exit the club ten minutes later, tucking an envelope into his jacket. Ben rushes off to catch the train, in the opposite direction of the Crown Vic.

Monday morning he sees the same cop sitting in a Ford pickup truck as he crosses the street to school. Ben gives a short wave and tries not to think too much about the officer’s wide grin.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me Father for I have sinned.


End file.
